History doesn’t start with a tall building
and a card with your name written on it, but jokes do. I think someone is taking
us for suckers and is playing a mean game.
Mots clés life music shakespeare romance rain death dreams sex water science-fiction magic emily-dickinson amnesia sacrifice apocalypse songs empty ghosts greek-mythology gothic jazz poems ships reflections magick haunting waking piano damnation androids storms desolate masquerade abandoned tempest count spectre carrack cityisle cityspire fedora haunts horace-walpole mannequins phillip-k-dick puddles specters
Rain makes the night -- and us -- smaller, softer, more forthright.
Rob KalinMots clés rain
Stars are only the rain of the Absolute.
Dejan StojanovicMots clés poetry rain stars literature poets quotes thoughts absolute dejan-stojanovic the-sun-watches-the-sun
God is a cloud from which rain fell.
Dejan StojanovicMots clés poetry philosophy god rain literature poets quotes clouds cloud poetry-quotes literature-quotes dejan-stojanovic the-sun-watches-the-sun
Those who hate rain hate life.
Dejan StojanovicMots clés wisdom life poetry hate rain literature quotes thoughts poetry-quotes quotes-to-live-by literature-quotes dejan-stojanovic
Nothing reminds us of an awakening more than rain.
Dejan StojanovicMots clés wisdom poetry rain literature quotes thoughts awakening poetry-quotes quotes-to-live-by literature-quotes dejan-stojanovic
And in this moment, like a swift intake of breath, the rain came.
Truman CapoteMots clés rain
I lay awake listening to the rain, and at first it was as pleasant to my ear and my mind as it had long been desired; but before I fell asleep it had become a majestic and finally a terrible thing, instead of a sweet sound and symbol. It was accusing and trying me and passing judgment. Long I lay still under the sentence, listening to the rain, and then at last listening to words which seemed to be spoken by a ghostly double beside me. He was muttering: The all-night rain puts out summer like a torch. In the heavy, black rain falling straight from invisible, dark sky to invisible, dark earth the heat of summer is annihilated, the splendour is dead, the summer is gone. The midnight rain buries it away where it has buried all sound but its own. I am alone in the dark still night, and my ear listens to the rain piping in the gutters and roaring softly in the trees of the world. Even so will the rain fall darkly upon the grass over the grave when my ears can hear it no more…
The summer is gone, and never can it return. There will never be any summer any more, and I am weary of everything… I am alone.
The truth is that the rain falls for ever and I am melting into it. Black and monotonously sounding is the midnight and solitude of the rain. In a little while or in an age – for it is all one – I shall know the full truth of the words I used to love, I knew not why, in my days of nature, in the days before the rain: ‘Blessed are the dead that the rain rains on.
I used to sit in front of my father's Jag, watching the raindrops run their kamikaze suicide missions from one edge of the windshield to the wiper blade.
Jodi PicoultTime itself is a thing, so it seems to me, that stands solidly like a fence of iron palings with its endless row of years; and we flow past like Gyoll, on our way to a sea from which we shall return only as rain.
Gene WolfeMots clés time rain mortality river
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